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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373853">Twisting Like Vines (true love declines)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/1PB2PB3PB4/pseuds/1PB2PB3PB4'>1PB2PB3PB4</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trans Cole Phelps [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>L.A. Noire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:41:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373853</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/1PB2PB3PB4/pseuds/1PB2PB3PB4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marie Phelps loves fairytales as a little girl. Cole Phelps is prettier than any princess though.</p><p>Marie's POV on the events of parts 2&amp;3</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cole Phelps/Marie Phelps</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trans Cole Phelps [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Twisting Like Vines (true love declines)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please let me know if you see any  mistakes please and I hope you enjoy.</p><p>Feel free to comment to let me know what you think.</p><p>Lowkey wrote this on a whim because Marie is cool.</p><p>Used Male pronouns for Cole throughout- even when Marie still considers him a girl btw.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When she’s little Marie Johnson loves fairytales. She pours over them and the colourful illustrations that decorate the pages. She loves Rapunzel’s hair and Cinderella’s smile. She imagines the three of them being friends- and there’s no prince Charming. No boys allowed, it’s a girls club.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At night she dreams of princesses and imagines that she’s a princess too.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Marie is a popular enough child- her chief friends in childhood are Millie Lawson and Gloria Jones- but she likes all the girls in her year well enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her love for fairytales grows into a love for books and English is her favourite class at school. She does well enough- she’s nothing to write home about, not like Peter Daniels in her year- but she does well enough to satisfy her parents.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She likes drawing too- trying to recreate the friendships of Rapunzel and Cinderella that exist in her mind. Besides it’s a suitably girly thing to do and her parents like it when they see her curled up at the table attempting to draw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marie says attempting, because try as she might she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> very good. She thinks she’s decent at least- until in 7th grade she sees Cole (he’s not called Cole then- but he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>) Phelps’ drawings. Larkspur is quite small and most of the elective classes have multiple year groups in them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marie decides that if someone can draw like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that- </span>
  </em>
  <span>with all the little details and minutiae then she wants to be their friend. She keeps taking art year after year after year in High school in the hopes that Cole will join her class too. He never does join, but Marie improves her skill considerably- enough that she’s asked to organise painting the mural for the elementary school- so she’s still glad she took it.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Later she thinks of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cole draws so precisely with the littlest of details because he is possibly the most fastidious and </span>
  <strike>
    <span>irritatingly</span>
  </strike>
  <span> observant man she has ever met.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She also- now that the glow has worn off a little- thinks that Cole had excelled at drawing </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span>- at copying down the details- he’d never sought to bring the pictures in his head to life- at least to Marie’s knowledge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cole’s a very grounded man while Marie is… </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>- at least not by choice. But she loved that about him, that he’d felt so solidly </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> even when he hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Art class is the first time that Marie notices Cole- really really notices him- as more than a blip on her radar. After that she finds her eyes drawn to him in class sometimes, just to catch him doodling absently, eyes fixed on the front and she wonders what it looks like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not too much though, because Marie has her friends and even if she’s no great student she </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares</span>
  </em>
  <span> about school, and god knows Cole cares.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>At this point though Marie just thinks Cole is an interesting </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she admires his artistic ability, she’s still more concerned with her friends and her books and her imaginary princesses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there’s a day at the park.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s there supervising Paul as he runs around like a little terror, and maybe she should go and stop him but frankly she can’t really be </span>
  <em>
    <span>bothered</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’s far more content to just sit on the grass and daydream- currently her and Cinderella are working together to braid Rapunzel’s hair- a herculean task, and in her mind she can see it practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>shimmer</span>
  </em>
  <span> under her fingers so soft to the touch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They tell her that she’s pretty and Marie feels all happy inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s startled out of her reverie by sudden shouting, and she looks up worried and half expecting Paul to be the cause of all the commotion and getting ready to go over and intervene and apologise on her little brother’s behalf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not Paul.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a small boy she doesn’t quite recognise at first, but with a soft face and she suddenly for the first time thinks she might understand what Gloria and Millie mean when they talk about boys. Then she gets closer and sees it’s not some random boy, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cole</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The image of Rapunzel winks out in her mind, suddenly she’s not so pretty. Marie had thought pretty meant to wear dresses and have shimmering hair, but now looking at Cole Marie’s not sure if she’s ever seen a girl look quite so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cole’s dragged off soon enough but the image stays in her mind for the rest of the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now whenever Marie sees Cole at school it’s easy to imagine him as he had been that day at the park and Marie finds herself desperately wanting to be friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then she’s moving onto high school and he’s staying behind- and she’s too scared to approach him in case he says </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead she joins art class in the hopes he will too, because he’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and maybe if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> becomes good he’ll look at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never joins but Marie’s still glad she took the classes. She learns that painting is more of her thing anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>In High School Millie and Gloria are talking about boys and giggling. Marie is not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wonders if there’s something wrong with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks about Cole at the park when she was 13, she thinks of now and worksheets covered in quick sketches she could only hope to imitate in double the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks about how she would tell Millie and Gloria about her imaginary sleepovers with Rapunzel and Cinderella and how they would hold hands and there would be no boys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But there have to be boys </span>
  </em>
  <span>eventually</span>
  <em>
    <span>!</span>
  </em>
  <span> They had said. Marie hadn’t understood why it couldn’t just be her and the girls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She starts to get worried that she’s different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she thinks about Mrs Gordon screaming at Cole, she thinks about how Cole never seems to have any real friends, about how people seem to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cole</span>
  </em>
  <span> is different, or wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t make sense to her to think of Cole as being wrong. Maybe she’s not quite so wrong either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks of Cole as Phelps in her mind, sees how the other boys give each other nicknames. She’s not close enough to Cole to give her a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> nickname and nothing quite seems to fit. She calls him Phelps in her head because no one else does, and that way she has something special.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the beginning of senior year she’s approached by the art teacher who commends her dedication to art class </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> her skill at painting by asking her to paint the mural for the elementary school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marie is flattered, and she loves painting so she’s eager to take up her teacher on the offer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s told to buy what she needs- and as long as it’s within reason she’ll be compensated. Already her mind is going to flowers and tall reaching vines that twist ‘round. Shimmering skies and cracking towers. She thinks of fairytales. They’re what she knows, and what she likes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s thinking about all of this when she goes to the hardware store after school to </span>
  <em>
    <span>buy</span>
  </em>
  <span> the paint, and maybe some brushes- but she thinks she’s good for those.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell tinkles when she walks in, but she can’t see anyone behind the counter or in the shop and she briefly wonders if the store was meant to be closed. Just when she’s wondering whether to call out or to just leave and come back another day a figure walks out from the back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you Miss?” Phelps asks her, dusting himself off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s only ever seen Phelps in dresses since that day in the park, and he looks good- but never quite right. Here now in a cap and apron and what looks to be men’s work clothes for a moment she feels her breath catch in her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly she’s 13 and desperately eager to be friends with him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marie’s always thought girls were pretty- but everyone seems to think pretty girls with long hair and flowing dresses are pretty- even other girls. They don’t look at girls like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Phelps</span>
  </em>
  <span> with their short hair and their dusty men’s work clothes and think girls like </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> are pretty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike>
    <span>Marie’s always thought Phelps was prettier like this</span>
    <span>.</span>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phelps isn’t just smart, he’s smart and good at drawing too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But time’s getting away from her and she needs to get this paint and be home for dinner, she wants to start sketching some ideas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to paint a mural,” she says trying to get back into control of herself, “so I was wondering if you had anything which would help with that?” She wants to kick herself. Of course there’s something to help in this shop- she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>come</span>
  </em>
  <span> here to buy paint, Phelps probably thinks she’s an utter fool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah we’ve got lots of paint- paint for walls,” He tells her dryly and she thinks she might cringe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” she replies before laughing awkwardly.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She can feel him watching her interestedly as she picks out her colours- just a base white and then some cans of the primary colours- if she wants anything specific that catches her eye she’ll come back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s looking at her and feeling the sudden urge to create conversation, she explains her purchases. Besides, she’s never seen Phelps draw in anything other than pencil and everything he sketches is just shades of grey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can make all the colours you want from red yellow and blue,” she says casually, “that’s the beauty of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He helps her carry the cans of paint to the counter where he rings them up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not like the other girls at school, are you Phelps.” she asks- tells him really. Because he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wonders if maybe he’s a little bit like Marie. Marie likes wearing dresses and feeling pretty, but she knows some women like her- like Phelps?- </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s probably just wishful thinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, she might as well test the waters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, you’re far too pretty to be like them. Be seeing you around,” She says lightly, and it’s true- at least she hopes. She gives him her best smile before she takes her paint and begins to walk home.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hadn’t imagined the look on Phelps’ face.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When she next sees Phelps it’s back at school and he’s back in the dresses and though she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> his hair can’t have changed he just seems different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She still likes looking at him now, and she knows these are the same hands that create those astounding sketches, it’s the same brain that challenges and agrees and objects and asserts Marie’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> opinions in English Lit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He carries himself differently though, he’d seemed just that little more alive back in the shop. Briefly she wonders why he seems to smother himself while at school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s sitting alone as always, and perhaps emboldened by yesterday she finds herself going over to talk to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Work clothes, he tells her and she can practically sense the discomfort seeping out of him so she backs off even though that doesn’t feel quite right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, she leans in close, and she’s done this all the time with Millie and Gloria at sleepovers but it feels different with Phelps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell the other girls, but I think you looked real pretty yesterday- better than now,” she whispers right into his ear. Then louder, pulling away, “That was a secret Phelps, don’t go around spreading it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s getting ready to walk off, but she’s still wanting Phelps to say something, to confirm what she suspects.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think it suits me more too,” he says softly under his breath, “Good luck with the mural Marie. I look forward to you coming back for more paint.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phelps finally seems to think Marie’s art is good- but she doesn’t even care about that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marie smiles and her hand lingers a little on his shoulder before she walks off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she goes to specifically buy some green paint then well, it’s for the many vines. It’s not for a certain employee who’s not even out front when she shows up.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually she graduates and she has to work out what to do with the rest of her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She enrolls herself into a secretarial course and she gets weekly boarding in the city but she comes back to stay with her parents at the weekends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie and Gloria pass her by, people change, people move on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If you know where the right places to go in San Fransisco you can meet certain people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marie doesn’t know, but one the girls on the course </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it’s fascinating meeting all these people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kisses a girl with short hair and trousers in a dark bar and it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t see much of anybody, she tries but her school friends have moved on. Phelps is probably busy working during the weekend and she can’t just show up at his shop without a good reason.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes she’ll see a copy of a Shakespeare play or a particularly good sketch and think of him, but mostly she’s focused on shorthand.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s until she’s stepping off the bus one Friday night and sees Phelps trailing home- clearly just out from work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Phelps,” she calls out, and she hasn’t seen him in </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages</span>
  </em>
  <span> but she still feels all happy in her chest, feels the corners of her mouth stretch when she sees him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen you in a while, but look at you as pretty as ever,” she tells him- because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs awkwardly at her, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretty,” he tells her, and sure girls say that to girls all the time- but Cole’s not like most girls and it feels amazing. “Your friends too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That hits a little, suddenly she doesn’t feel quite so special, but it still feels different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“People move on Phelps,” she tells him a little sadly, but she’s mostly over it. She’s over that Millie and Gloria had called her and said they wouldn’t be able to see her this weekend, but maybe next weekend- just the same as last weekend and the weekend before that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks she’s found someone she’d rather spend time with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tells him about this picnic she had planned, and all the food she had prepared. It’s only a small lie- she’s yet to make anything, but she feels she’ll have a better chance of convincing him to come if he doesn’t think he’s putting her out in anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bring your trousers!” she shouts once she’s taken a few steps away feeling impossibly brave.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s at her house prompt and early in the foggy morning air, and he’s wearing his work clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sees the look in his eyes, on his face, and thinks she recognises it from the one in the mirror from when she thinks about Phelps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they’re settled down and the blanket laid out she sits next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tells him he looks good and he awkwardly compliments her dress. It’s one of her favourites, it makes her feel like a princess. But suddenly it’s her favourite even more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so pretty,” she tells him, slowly moving closer stopping her slow unpacking of the food basket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me if this is wrong --,” and then she’s kissing him, ever so gently hoping this is good but also scared he’ll never speak to her again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Call me Cole,” he says, breaking away for a moment, and then his lips are back on hers and they’re kissing.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cole</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Cole. It suits him, and now </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> has a special nickname for him that’s just her own.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Marie Johnson doesn’t know about his family yet, doesn’t know that he’s a man.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Marie invites Cole to dinner at her house, and it’s awkward and uncomfortable but she’s glad she did anyway. Then Cole invites </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> over to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span> parents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m a man, he’d told her seriously a little while in between the two. She’d agreed, she loved him. It seemed to suit him better anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner at Cole’s is awkward and uncomfortable for other reasons. His parents clearly have an issue, but Marie is hard pressed to place it. All she sees it how Cole’s parents love him, and that she can hold Cole’s hand at the dinner table and neither his mother nor his father make anything of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-need- </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cole,” she thinks she hears Hannah Phelps say as she leaves the property, but she doesn’t make anything of it.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it’s this night at Cole’s house, perhaps it’s her time in the city, that gives her the boldness to tell her parents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it’s just the desperation when her parents bring up yet again the prospect of her finding some man from Larkspur and getting married.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her father hits her once for the first and only time. Her mother calls her a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dyke</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Both blows hit equally hard. Then Marie’s grabbing what she can and runs to the Phelps’ house.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves to San Francisco full time, gets a proper apartment, finishes her course, and then gets a job. All the time she’s waiting for Cole to finish school and come join her. They write letters every week.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d liked the city when it was temporary, but even though she knows her family hates her now, never wants to see her again, she still misses them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wishes Mr and Mrs Johnson were more like Mr and Mrs Phelps, she wishes she’d kept her mouth shut. She wishes.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Cole changes when he moves to the city to join her- he becomes more </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, becomes the person she’d really fallen for. The boy in the shop and at the park. Not the muted girl at school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He changes in other ways too, more physical ways. At first Marie is pleased because they seem to make him happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After his chest is operated on he’s in bed for weeks and Marie’s out working. He draws her little sketches, one a day of a thing he sees in the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice lowers and his jaw becomes scratchier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cole sits in bed and Marie argues with him about whether “Hamlet” or “Twelfth Night” was better.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Marie had known he was a man. And she’d loved him, but perhaps she hadn’t really known. She still loves him- and at this point she still loves his body too- even as it shifts from what she’d fallen in love </span>
  <em>
    <span>with</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Marie had known from early on that she’d wanted children, wanted to be a mother. She also knew that in her life she wouldn’t be able to get that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s married at twenty, and she can’t help it when her mind drifts to children.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cole wants kids too, she can tell. He suggests adoption, but they cast that aside. Firstly Marie wants to have her </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> kids- wants to be a mother in that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Secondly, adoption will lead to lots of questions. Neither of them are particularly fond of questions. Marie likes her marriage, she’d rather it not fall down around her ears.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually there are a series of awkward conversations involving Cole, Marie, and a little later- Jack.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Cole spends a great deal of time- he’s working again now- trying to make sure Marie understands this is her choice. She appreciates the sentiment, and she’d readily agreed but it’s still awkward right now sitting on her bed with Jack Phelps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it helps Marie,” Jack tells her, “I’m not dying to do this either. You’re my brother’s wife. If it’s too weird just tell me and I’ll tell Cole.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chuckles a little at that because, “You two are exactly the same. Definitely can tell that you’re brothers.” She pauses, and Jack’s smiling a little. “I uh, can I keep my dress on?” Marie asks and she’d mean to be so firm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think all of us would probably prefer that,” Jack replies, “Uh, here’s to you having a beautiful kid.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s very awkward. Thankfully they only have to go through it twice They don’t really speak about it- but Marie is still perfectly content for Jack to come around every few weeks for dinner. He’s a good man, and one of them ought to still have contact with their family.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s pregnant with twins and she’s overjoyed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stops working and Cole goes to Stanford where he learns languages and gets to read books that Marie will never be able to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He writes her out translations so that she can and she reads them when </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who’s now stuck in bed.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The war changes Marie- and when he comes back she can see that it changes Cole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s hard, she’s trying to raise two infants alone and with no family. Cole’s parents would probably be happy to help but Larkspur is about three hours drive away from Stanford. They come to visit her a few times, but the brunt of it all falls on her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She also goes back into work- or tries to at least. Cole gets decent pay, but it’s good to have that little bit more. It’s the war so everything has changed and married women can get work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s still got two infant daughters though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paints their nursery with twisting vines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels herself harden up and the letters Cole writes start to feel increasingly distant and then suddenly they feel like Cole has locked himself up entirely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cries when she hears the news about Jack, and cries harder when she realises that neither her nor Cole will be able to go to the funeral.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She gets a telegram one morning and before even opening it collapses to the floor. Their daughters are young- only five- they can’t be fatherless. She can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>this- she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cole’s been wounded in action, she gasps out a sigh of relief and then instantly feels guilty.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cole’s very different when he comes  home. He’d never been a massive font of emotion, but there was a difference between that and this repressed shell of a man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t quite notice at first, too glad to have him home safe and he seems to feel much the same hugging her and the girls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes he’ll get a faraway look in his eyes, and sometimes he’ll kiss her desperately like he’s trying to tether himself to the now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has a new scar on his back, and she wonders how he got it exactly but she never asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>S<strike>he’s worried he wouldn’t answer.</strike></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks at the scars on his chest, and the new darkness in his eyes and wonders how much of the original person she fell in love with is left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they move to L.A. Marie Phelps doesn’t think she loves her husband anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She loves her daughters, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him, and being married is safe. And she thinks he might still love </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they’ve been separated for years and he feels like a stranger in body and mind and she can’t seem to get him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk </span>
  </em>
  <span>to her.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They move to L.A. because there are too many of Cole’s ghosts in San Francisco, and she hears news down the pipeline that some of her own might be moving in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thing is, Cole had been away so long that he had nothing to </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span> in San Francisco or Stanford- not </span>
  <em>
    <span>anymore</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marie had friends, Marie had a life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now she’s in L.A. with a husband she doesn’t love and who she can’t seem to talk to. She’s in a new city with no family and no friends and Cole’s parents are hundreds of hundreds of miles away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She has two daughters, and she loves them, and Cole loves them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t thought this would be where her life was going to end up when she was 19.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Marking this as multi-chapter because I might come back and write some more Marie POV when I work out how exactly I want to take this in terms of canon. I don't want to commit to anything yet so I haven't written her POV on the later part of the game and maybe I won't but maybe I will.</p><p>Spoilers, it's looking like Cole's not going to have an affair with Elsa (but maybe Marie will- but Cole takes the fall to cover them)</p><p>P.S. In case anyone A. reads this, and B. takes this the wrong way: I'm not trying to say pre-transitioned Trans men are women/lesbians- they're men. The problem is that Marie doesn't quite realise this-she meets Cole when not only is he pre-transitioning, he's also presenting as a woman in almost all aspects of his life- and that's where the problems come in. The fact that Marie doesn't grasp this is ultimately why their relationship fails. Thank you.</p><p>find me at tumblr- dontcallmedyldo <br/>if you wanna talk Head canons or anything.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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